


Mixed Heritage

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: Wayward Son of the Nightside [2]
Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Nightside Series - Simon R. Green, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Asgard, BAMF Phil Coulson, Coulson has powers, Crossover, Gen, Phil Coulson is the son of John Taylor and Shotgun Suzie, Secret Identity, The Nine Realms, conferences, peace treaties, spoilers for the Nightside series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson and the Avengers are sent as a diplomatic envoy to the millennial peace conference between the Nine Realms, representing Midgard. While they're there, it's revealed that Earth isn't the only realm that Phil calls home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixed Heritage

**Author's Note:**

> Knowledge of Simon R Green's Nightside series is probably needed to understand this. There is both a [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nightside_\(book_series\)) and a [TV Tropes](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Literature/Nightside?from=Main.Nightside) page, though.
> 
> *edit*  
> For those who are interested, I wrote a brief [Introduction to the Nightside series](http://aceofannwn.dreamwidth.org/671.html) for anyone unfamiliar with it.

**Mixed Heritage**

  
Phil Coulson liked being the ordinary one. He liked being the bland, impersonal figure in the suit moving through crowds without being noticed, instead of the one everyone made way for. He liked being a nobody, instead of someone whose reputation – and his father’s reputation, and his mother’s, and looming over all of them, his grandmother’s – proceeded him long before he got anywhere.  


Not that he didn’t have his own kind of reputation, at SHIELD: he was competent, impossible to faze, and had skills most agents could only dream of. But it was a human kind of reputation, ordinary and unremarkable by the standards Phil had grown up with, so that was fine.

Phil had seen forever, once, and he’d seen the shape his grandmother had taken within it, and the shadow he himself cast across it, and he’d thought – _I need to get out of here before I ever turn into that._ So he’d left his home, his birthright behind, his family – left it all behind for this life, with its streak of danger and strangeness in the midst of a very ordinary world. He didn’t regret it. Maybe his parents couldn’t stand a normal life, but to Phil it was grounding, reassuring, something to hold onto and remind him that he was human, no matter what he could do, or what his ancestry was.

It showed up sometimes, of course – the laws of probability said that he should have been seriously injured long before Loki stabbed him, and even then, he’d recovered from that injury surprisingly well, considering that it should have killed him. Then there was the way Phil always found what he was looking for, whether it was a piece of information or the perfect shot. And very occasionally, if the people he faced found themselves out of bullets all of a sudden and Phil’s pockets turned out to be mysteriously full of bullets later – well, no one had ever noticed, and Phil was good at keeping that sort of thing to himself.

Phil wasn’t stupid; he knew that the main reason he was human was simply because he believed himself to be. That didn’t make his humanity any less real, however.

The truth was, his name was Philip Henry Taylor – Coulson had been his mother’s maiden name, even if no one had ever used it – and he was born and bred in the Nightside, the realm where it was always three in the morning, full of unspeakable horrors and terrible wonders, and anything was available for the right price. His mother was Shotgun Suzie, aka Suzie Shooter aka _Oh Christ It’s Her RUN,_ and his father was John Taylor, the badass’s badass, unacknowledged prince of the Nightside and the man who kept it in order (or close enough). His grandmother had been Lilith, of biblical fame, an Eldritch Abomination who had birthed a line of monsters and created the Nightside long ago, and returned in an attempt to conquer it until her defeat at the hands of her son. Phil had been a household name before he was old enough to talk, and he was capable of things that ordinary people weren’t.

He liked being Philip John Coulson better.

* * *

After Thor, and Loki and the Chitauri, Phil knew it was only a matter of time before his other identity as Philip Taylor was revealed. Sooner or later he’d need to make use of his hereditary gift too blatantly for it to be dismissed as luck or skill, or else who he really was would be revealed somehow. The way Earth kept encountering aliens and strange artefacts, it was inevitable.

When Phil was assigned as part of a diplomatic convoy to attend a multi-realm peace conference in Asgard, the first in a millennium, he wondered if this would be the event that exposed him. He hoped not. 

The news that the Avengers would be accompanying him for the same purpose didn’t fill him with optimism, however. The Avengers were many things, but ‘diplomatic’ was not, generally speaking, one of them. Tony Stark was the closest thing they had to someone with diplomatic training, and he’d turned being obnoxious into an art form.

“That’s why I’m sending you,” Fury said when Phil pointed this out.

“Yes, sir,” Phil sighed.

Thor seemed both excited and serious about his friends’ entry into interplanetary politics, if such a thing were possible, a kind of grave anticipation on the Avengers behalf. He spent quite a lot of time explaining how the conference would proceed and what that proper protocols would be, for which Phil was grateful. The purpose of the conference was to renew old treaties and ratify new ones, and basically keep the different major realms from going to war with each other. As the strongest realm at this point in time, Asgard was hosting the conference, and would be expected to prevent anything untoward from occurring, such as assassination attempts or brawls between the representatives of the different realms.

Earth, Phil and the Avengers were told, would have the lowest status of all the realms at the conference, as this was the first time that they had ever attended, and many would be calling their inclusion into question, remembering Midgard as the primitive and uncivilised realm it had been centuries or even millennia before. It was vital for Earth’s representatives to behave with dignity and to keep a cool temper, but be unwilling to tolerate any blatant or grave insults.

“So, no punching someone in the face because they looked at us funny?” Steve joked, beating Tony to it.

“It depends on the insult,” Thor replied seriously.

For the trip, most of the Avengers were dressed in some variant of armour. Tony and Steve already had forms of armour of their own, of course, but Clint was outfitted in a more protective version of his usual combat suit, and Natasha donned an outfit somewhat similar in style to the Lady Sif’s which R&D’s clothing department had designed especially for her. Bruce, meanwhile, was given his own combat suit, which he accepted reluctantly.

Phil himself refused point-blank to wear armour other than a Kevlar vest, wearing his usual suit instead. He only smiled when the others argued with him. The suit was its own kind of armour, he knew. It was one of those things he had learn from his father. The conference attendees would find that out soon enough, if they questioned his attire.

Before they left Earth, Phil filled his pockets with tiny packets of salt and pepper. It was a trick he hadn’t really used since his teens, throwing condiments into people’s eyes during a dangerous moment (he liked to think he was more dignified than that, these days), but as his father used to say, it was amazing how useful condiments could be at a pinch.

But then, Phil’s father was a master of using unconventional objects as weapons. When the security camera video of Phil defeating a couple of robbers with a bag of flour had made the rounds at SHIELD, Phil didn’t tell anyone that he’d once seen his father pull a similar trick in the middle of a shootout in a supermarket. Phil just smiled, and said nothing, and let Agent Coulson’s reputation grow.

* * *

Aside from Asgard and Earth, delegations from the other major realms were present: Vanaheim, home of the Vanir, who were somewhat similar to the Aesir; Jotunheim, home of the Jotun, or frost giants; Svartalfarheim, home of the dwarves; Muspellsheim, home of the fire giants; and Alfarheim, the home of the elves. Niflheim and Helheim and both declined to send a delegation. 

Of the races present Phil had only ever met the Aesir of Asgard, and Puck, who was from Alfarheim. The elves had once tried to conquer Earth, and failed; they still occasionally visited Earth, however, and were sometimes seen in the Nightside. Puck was one of the most dangerous elves of all, capricious and mischievous, capable of being helpful or troublesome as the whim took him. Phil’s Dad had a passing acquaintanceship with him, and Puck had absconded with Phil and taken him out to get icecream when Phil was about eleven. 

The elf had seemed very amused by Phil, although some of that was probably because he was aware that Phil’s Dad was likely exploding with fury and worry at his Phil’s abduction. Puck had brought Phil back safe and sound, though, so although John Taylor was practically frothing at the mouth, he only told the elf not to do it again, and promised terrible fates if he did. Puck had simply chuckled, ruffled a bemused Phil’s hair, and vanished.

Phil wondered if Puck was part of the Alfarheim delegation, and if so, whether he would recognise Phil now that he was grown up. Probably. Physically Phil didn’t resemble his father much, but he’d been told they had the same aura of preternatural calm and capability in the face of trouble, and the one physical feature Phil had definitely inherited from him were the eyes. Phil had heard stories of his Dad’s younger years that showed him in a different light, but the John Taylor Phil knew had always been a very self-assured man who was never out of his depth, dressed in a smart suit and with an even smarter mouth. 

“Hey, boss!” Clint stuck his head in while Phil was surveying his quarters. They matched the grandiosity and casual opulence Phil had seen throughout Asgard. “They give you a giant room too?”

“Apparently,” Phil agreed. He had to admit that everything was quite impressive, even by his standards.

“Natasha swears she can swim in her bathtub,” Clint confided. “When I left she was wondering how easy it would be to drown someone in it.”

“Very,” Phil replied casually. His bathroom was built on similar lines. “We might want to bathe in pairs.”

“Yeah, me and Tasha have already agreed to bunk down together to sleep,” Clint agreed. “Think there’ll be that kind of intrigue, sir?”

“Possibly,” Phil agreed. It was a politically important conference, after all, and some attendees might not like the fact that ‘Midgard’ had the audacity to attend and demand concessions of their own. “I’ll tell the others.”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you make Cap and Shellhead share a bed,” Clint promised with an evil glint in his eyes, smirking.

“Amusing though that would be,” Phil replied dryly, “let’s try and minimise the in-fighting, shall we? I suspect that everyone’s patience will be tested enough as it is.”

* * *

Once they’d been given time to settle in and refresh themselves, the members of the different diplomatic contingents were shown into the massive hall where the conference was to take place. Convoys were shown inside in order of precedence, which meant that Phil and the Avengers were the last to enter.

Phil took a good, keen look around at the faces around them as he and the others were shown to their seats. Some gazes were curious as they studied the Earth delegation, others openly hostile as the ‘warriors of Midgard’ were announced. Others again simply looked bored or disinterested, as though they couldn’t care about Earth’s presence one way or another.

Phil examined the different races. Like the Aesir, the Vanir looked similar to humans, although they all appeared to be fair-haired and fair-skinned, where there was greater variation among the people of Asgard. The Jotun were intimidatingly tall, large, and blue, with bright red eyes, and were sitting as far away as possible from the fire giants, who were all seated on stone chairs and whose bright orange skin gave off a shimmer of heat haze. The dwarves were slim, dark-haired beings, with very pale skin and full bushy beards. 

Reluctantly, Phil turned his eyes to the Alfarheim delegations. The elves appeared as elves always did: inhumanly tall, glamorous and impossibly beautiful, attired in a variety of rich silks, their entourage wearing brass-and-silver armour. All of them had pointed ears. The only one who didn’t appear beautiful like the others was Puck; almost human-sized, physically misshapen, and cloven-hoofed, the result of an inadvisable union between one of the eldest elves and a mere human.

Phil knew the exact moment that Puck recognised him. The elf stared, then broke into a wicked grin.

Not wanting his identity broadcast to all and sundry, Phil took a chance. He allowed his lips to quirk in a tiny smile, and winked at the elf. Puck looked delighted, and winked back, before going back to ignoring Phil’s presence, much to Phil’s internal relief.

Odin opened the conference with a speech about maintaining peace and the bonds of friendship between different races, which everyone listened to politely, although some of the older dignitaries were nodding in grave agreement. Several of them were missing eyes or limbs, and Phil supposed that they had very good reason to understand the importance of positive relationships between peoples.

This was clearly a traditional opening speech, but it just as clearly took an unanticipated turn when instead of sitting back down as expected, Odin went on.

“Today, in addition to our traditional guests and allies, Asgard also plays host to seven of the great warriors of Midgard,” Odin proclaimed. “For the first time, they are ready to join this convocation so that they might have a say in the ways of the Nine Realms, and form bonds with realms besides their own, just as they have formed an alliance with Asgard. Asgard welcomes their presence, and invites them to speak.”

Odin sat, and turned to look at the Earth delegation expectantly.

Phil stood up. This was an opportunity to speak of Earth’s strengths and the qualities of its people, and attempt to form treaties with the various realms. While they might not succeed in making new allies, Phil and the Avengers at least wanted to come away with mutual peace treaties preventing the Earth from being attacked by any of the other members of the Nine Realms.

He thanked Odin for the opportunity to speak, and talked about Earth’s entry into a wider universe than their realm alone, ignoring the raised eyebrows at his patently non-combative attire, and introduced each of the Avengers before indicating to Tony that he should speak, as they had planned earlier.

Tony gave his speech about the adaptive capabilities and accelerated technological and cultural development of human society, but Phil would tell it wasn’t making an impact.

Damn.

He cleared his throat.

“Also, you might want to consider that Earth has strong ties to the Nightside.”

_ That _ got their attention.

“Who are you to make such a claim, mortal?”

Phil had braced himself for the question, so he simply smiled blandly and said, “Philip Taylor, son of John of the line of Lilith, heir to the Nightside by birth and bloodline, representative of the realm of Earth.”

The reaction was instantaneous. The various dignitaries murmured agitatedly amongst themselves at his claim. But the prince of Vanaheim looked openly skeptical.

“You are surely an imposter,” he said contemptuously, eyeing Phil up and down, clearly finding his mild, un-warriorlike appearance wanting. “We should have you whipped and thrown from this gathering for your insolence.”

Thor had appeared pole-axed when Phil introduced himself, as stunned and perturbed as everyone else, but at the blatant insult his brows came together in outrage on Phil’s behalf.

Phil smiled pleasantly, even as he cringed internally. He hated to channel his father even if it came naturally to him, knowing the kind of fearsome reputation it gave him, but right now he knew that it was necessary.

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” he told the prince. “I’d probably get a little upset. Suddenly and violently and all over the place.”

Out of the corner of his eye Phil saw Loki twitch at the utterance of John Taylor’s catchphrase, an odd, pained expression crossing his face. Interesting; apparently Loki had encountered his father at some point in the past, and Phil was guessing Loki hadn’t come off the winner from it, either.

“Indeed?” Vanaheim’s prince sneered, reaching for his knife. Phil readied his gift. “Then prove it.”

His hand moved to grasp his knife, only to find the weapon gone from its sheath. The prince had a half-second of confusion before his own knife _thock_ ed into his shoulder.

He screamed as the thrown knife sank in up to the hilt. Phil flexed his fingers.

“Does anyone else wish to issue a challenge?” There was a pointed silence. “Excellent. I’m glad to see we can all talk like reasonable people.”

“Oh, very much Taylor’s spawn,” Phil heard Loki mutter, loud enough to be heard by those standing nearby. Phil smiled faintly.

“I cannot speak for the Nightside, as I’m not its designated representative – that would be my father, John Taylor; you might have heard of him, he’s the Nightside’s current Walker – but unofficially, I can assure you that there are certain interested parties who would frown on anything untoward happening to Earth. You might want to bear that in mind.”

* * *

Shortly afterwards Odin called for a recess in the proceedings ‘in order to reflect on all that has been spoken this day,’ as the representatives of the various realms tried to assimilate everything that Tony and Phil had said and the implications therein.

The Avengers (minus Thor, who naturally went with the Asgard contingent) were ushered into a large refreshment room, filled with chairs and couches and a large table covered with food and drink.

Phil collected a flagon of what smelled like mead, Tony and Steve following suit, while Bruce reached for the fruit plate and Natasha and Clint just stared at Phil, waiting for answers.

It was actually Bruce who broached the issue first, raising a meaningful eyebrow.

“Philip Taylor, huh?” 

“My real name,” Phil allowed. “They don’t really do birth certificates where I come from, so when I moved to Earth Proper–” the Nightside title slipped out almost accidentally, “–I had to get a fake done, and I didn’t want to use my actual name for personal reasons. Later on I hacked the official records so that I could get myself a legal birth certificate, but I continued using the fake name. All my records list me as Philip Coulson, originally from London, England. I emigrated to America later.”

“Okay,” Tony broke in, sipping at his mead, “that’s good to know, but the important question here: what’s the Nightside?”

“A wretched hive of scum and villainy, turned up to eleven,” Phil replied. While Tony choked on his drink, Phil went on, “it’s generally described as a realm of monsters, where it’s always three am, full of unspeakable horrors and terrible wonders, home to dangerous artefacts and forbidden knowledge, and anything is available for the right price. It’s also where I grew up.” 

Phil knew his voice sounded wistful.

“You said that your father’s mother is Lilith,” Natasha said in a low voice, because of course she would have noticed that detail. Phil nodded, resigned to telling them all the truth.

“Was,” Phil corrected, because that was important. “According to the Bible, she was Adam’s first wife, who left rather than show obedience to him, and went away to birth a line of monsters. According to Dad, Lilith once told him that was just a story, made up to explain events beyond human comprehension. What we do know for certain is that she was an Eldritch Abomination in human form, ancient and possibly existing beyond time and space, who created the Nightside but was banished from it. She returned when my father was a young man, determined to rule over all. Dad managed to defeat her.” He didn’t mention that it was the second time that John Taylor had done so. He shrugged. “Dad and I turned out mostly human, probably because my grandfather was pretty much a normal guy, who got in over his head.”

“ _Mostly_ human?” Tony asked sharply. “What does that mean, exactly?” The others looked tense as well.

“I have a gift,” Phil clarified. “It allows me to find things. It doesn’t sound very dangerous, but the things I can find include ammunition in guns, fillings in teeth, and the weak point in spells, and for some things I can call them to me once I find them. That’s what I did out there, with the knife.”

The others absorbed that.

“Cool,” Clint said at last. Natasha jabbed him in the ribs, but she seemed a little more relaxed.

“Certainly sounds like it would come in handy,” Steve observed. “Before, you sounded like you miss the place.”

“I do,” Phil agreed, because it was true.

“So why did you leave?”

Phil reflected for a moment. That was a complex question, really, but the answer boiled down to the simple fact that he had to.

“The Nightside is full of monsters,” Phil said finally. “My Dad would tell you that he and Mum are two of the biggest monsters of all.” He swallowed. “Lilith was so much more of a monster than they could ever be. But a few centuries in the Nightside? I’d be just like her. So I left, while I still had a choice. Earth Proper might be ordinary and normal, but it reminds me constantly of what humanity is supposed to be. Before, I spent too much time in the company of monsters. It was beginning to show.”

“You don’t seem like a monster, boss,” Clint said earnestly, looking troubled by Phil’s declaration.

Phil closed his eyes for a moment. Of course the line was harder for this group to see, with their violent pasts and difficult upbringings. He wasn’t sure if he could explain the distinction.

“There’s a fine line we walk, Clint,” he replied, trying to explain anyway. “I… Well. I don’t know how my Dad lived so long on the Nightside and still held onto his principles, because most people don’t. He would tell you he’s as much of a monster as anything or anyone there, but other people have described him as the white knight of the Nightside, punishing those who step over a line that’s too dark for even its usual denizens to cross, without ever crossing that line himself. Oh, most people find him terrifying, but deep at heart, he’s the closest thing to a good man the Nightside’s got.” 

Phil took a deep breath. 

“I… was getting perilously close to crossing one of those lines. The first time I killed someone, I was ten. It was in self-defence, but if you’ve already killed that young, it’s a slippery slope from there. And in the Nightside, you have a lot further to slide. By the time I was eighteen I was getting into all sorts of trouble, and then… there was a tear in space and time, and I saw forever. I saw everything that was, all at once, and I saw my place in it, and what I could become. I packed up the next day and left to live in Earth Proper. I go back to visit sometimes, but not for good. I can’t afford to.”

Phil had never shared his reasons for leaving with anyone, not even his parents, and the confession was both painful and a terrible relief all at once.

“You were keeping control of your darker side, instead of encouraging it,” Bruce said knowingly. Of course he would understand, Phil thought.

“I saw where not doing so could lead,” Phil said honestly. “I didn’t like it.”

Someone cleared their throat at the door, and everyone turned to see a servant standing waiting. He bowed respectfully.

“Honoured delegates, I have been sent to recall you so that the conference may continue.”

“Thank you,” Steve said politely. “Come on, guys, we can discuss this some more later.”

The lot of them trailed after the servant. Phil took one more swallow of his mead to fortify himself, and followed.

* * *

Mentioning Earth’s ties to the Nightside proved to have been the right thing to do. Everyone was quite anxious to establish a peace treaty, even the Jotun, who spent the entire time glaring doubtfully at Phil. It was agreed that Earth would be entered into the general treaty that governed the interactions of the other realms, and the following day Asgard would take its turn to speak. Any other treaties that Earth might wish to negotiate would have to wait until later in the conference.

By the end of the day Phil was exhausted, and it was only the first day. There was still the rest of the week to go, and that was only if things went as expected and there were no problems. Otherwise, the conference might take even longer.

Phil decided not to have dinner with his team, and grabbed some bread and meat and made a sandwich instead, preferring to call it an early night. They would have to go over the repercussions of today and discuss what to do next, Phil knew, but it could wait until morning when Phil was rested.

Alone in his quarters – Phil was planning on joining Clint and Natasha later, on the grounds that if the three of them slept in the same room they’d be more than a match for any potential assassins, and the beds were certainly big enough to fit multiple people comfortably – Phil ate his sandwich, thinking about how the day had gone. He wondered what the Avengers thought of his real identity.

There was a knock on the door. Half-way through taking off his tie, Phil sighed, and went to answer it. When he opened the door there was no one there, and Phil spun swiftly around to find Puck standing behind him, grinning.

“Puck,” Phil acknowledged, and couldn’t help the slight smile, because dangerous or not – Phil knew precisely how Queen Mab had died – his eleven year old self had _liked_ the strange being. “It’s been a while.”

Puck chuckled gleefully.

“Indeed, but this meeting is a memorable one, Philip! You have every envoy attending all a-twitter over your attendance.” His merriment was obvious. “It has been most entertaining.”

“Well, you know,” said Phil. “It’s a Taylor thing. Never boring when we’re around.”

“Never,” Puck agreed happily. “You are a breath of fresh air in these dull proceedings. They always take care never to invite anyone truly interesting.”

Phil had a fair idea of how the elf defined the word ‘interesting’ and wasn’t sure he liked having it apply to him. Still, that was the price of being Philip Taylor. 

Phil hadn’t yet shut his door, and behind him he heard a concerned, “Phil?”

He turned back to the door to see Thor staring at Puck with politely-concealed mistrust. Puck noticed, and his grin widened.

“My friend, I came to speak to you in light of today’s revelations,” said Thor, eyeing Puck suspiciously. “But I see that you are already entertaining a visitor.”

Phil nodded, and moved back to allow Thor entry into the room. The contrast between the handsome, strapping young god and the unattractive, imperfect elf was striking.

“Thor, I’m sure you know of Puck, at least by reputation,” Phil said, and Puck uttered a crack of laughter. “And Puck, I am sure you know Prince Thor.”

“Hah,” said Puck. “I’ll leave the Aesir to his worried queries and bid you farewell, Philip.”

He was gone the moment he finished speaking.

Phil rubbed a hand over his face and opened up his Sight to check that the elf was truly gone, and not merely invisible. But only himself and Thor were present.

“Thor,” he said wearily. “Do you mind shutting the door behind you?”

“Of course,” Thor said, doing so. “Phil, you never told me of your heritage.”

“It’s not something I advertise,” Phil said. “I moved to Earth Proper to get away from my reputation. Everyone there knew who I was. I wanted a chance to lead a normal life.”

Thor’s expression cleared a little. 

“I confess, I understand something of your motivation,” he told Phil. “My time on Midgard is pleasant for its lack of expectation and reduced responsibility. On Asgard I must act a prince, with all that such a role entails.”

Phil nodded in sympathy.

“Exactly. On Earth, no one expects any more of me than they would any other SHIELD agent. It’s very freeing. And you know, we have a saying, about how you re the company you keep. I thought that it would be a good idea to stop keeping the company of monsters.”

“Perfectly understandable!” Thor boomed. He looked relieved to discover that Phil had apparently decided not to associate with his native people any longer. Phil couldn’t help resenting him for it, just a little. He knew how the Nightsiders appeared to outsiders, and they weren’t wrong, but strangers often missed that which was good and beautiful in the Nightside, blinded by the horror and ugliness of it. The Nightside was, after all, filled with wonders as well as horrors, gods as well as monsters.

“If that’s all Thor, I’m planning to get an early night’s sleep. Today was exhausting.”

Thor chuckled, and slapped Phil on the back. Phil winced a little.

“Aye, there is much to concern oneself with during such a meeting. Sleep well, then, friend, and rise tomorrow with a renewed spirit!”

“I’m sure I will,” Phil assured him, and somehow managed to shepherd the Norse god out of his room.

* * *

The next morning, Phil disengaged himself from Clint – the archer always cuddled the nearest person in his sleep – and walked back to his own quarters. Knowing that he was going to spend most of today sitting in one place, he decided to change into sweat pants and a short-sleeved shirt and go for a jog before he showered and got ready for the day.

The servants were quite willing to direct him to the games field, which was currently going unused. Sure enough, the large, open grassy area was empty of people, so Phil began to jog.

The circular field was quite large, and it took Phil a good ten minutes to cover its circumference. The exercise felt good after the previous day’s inactivity, and the air he breathed in was cool and fresh in a way that the air back in the cities on Earth never was.

About three quarters of the way through his jog, Phil saw a figure waiting for him. The green clothes and metal gauntlets were quite distinctive, and Phil frowned, wondering what Loki wanted. After the attack on New York it ad been revealed that Loki was partially under the control of the spear, just like everyone else was, although he’d fought it off a bit better than any of the humans did. Phil didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him, and liked him even less, but he was willing to acknowledge that Loki hadn’t been in control of his actions at the time.

As Phil jogged back to where he’d started, Loki was still standing watching him. Phil gazed calmly back. After some of the things he’d seen, a Younger God with daddy issues didn’t really seem that frightening.

After a moment, the god smiled.

“John Taylor’s son,” he said. “I admit, not something I saw coming.”

“I was trying to stay under the radar,” Phil answered. “I suppose that’s something I no longer have to worry about, now everyone knows who I am anyway.”

“Quite,” said Loki. He was quiet for a moment. “Since I happen to have had the… privilege… of meeting your father once or twice, I wanted to check: no hard feelings?”

“You mean about the time you stabbed me in the back and invaded my country?” Phil asked.

Loki spread his hands.

“To be fair, I was not acting in control of myself at the time. But yes,” he added, watching Phil carefully. Phil thought about it.

“Fine,” he said, because really, Loki wasn’t even as bad as half the people that Phil had grown up with. “You get a pass on that one. But anything you do in the future I am perfectly ready to hold a grudge over.”

“Agreed,” said Loki instantly. “You know, they are likely serving breakfast, back in the palace. I could show back to the dining rooms allocated to your delegation?”

His tone was innocent, and Phil was fairly sure that he wanted to see the looks on the Avengers face when escorted Phil to breakfast. Still, as tricks went, it was harmless.

“Lead the way,” said Phil, and Loki smirked, as though he knew that Phil was perfectly well aware of his motivations for being helpful.

Phil really hoped that the rest of the conference wasn’t as stressful as the first day had been. 

Still, he was Philip Taylor. He could deal, if it came down to it.


End file.
